


angled

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Music, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Plays the Piano, Meet the Family, Post-Pacifist Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Markus’s hand wrapped around Connor’s wrist, pulled Connor’s palm toward his mouth. He pressed a kiss into Connor’s skin and shook his head. The coin was cool and comforting in Markus’s other fist. “Nah. I’m just overthinking it. You look good. Carl will love you. Hopefully you’ll like Carl in return and everything will be fine.”





	angled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the cute as hell [holiday prompt thing](https://detroitbecomehuman.dreamwidth.org/5644.html) going on over at the DBH DW comm.

Markus swallowed hard as he paced, waiting for Connor to finish changing. Somewhere along the way, he’d picked up Connor’s habit of fidgeting his fingers and proceeded to do just that, wishing he’d snaked Connor’s coin to better focus himself while Connor changed. They weren’t even late yet—and wouldn’t be, Connor was as punctual as he was conscientious and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the evening, not even when he’d joked earlier in the day about having nothing to wear—but Markus’s heart fluttered anyway. Which was stupid and he knew it. Even if they were late, it wasn’t like Carl would be mad.

Markus just wanted this done and over with. It was the first time Connor was going to be meeting Carl. It was the first time Markus had had the opportunity to bring someone home. That it happened to be at this time of year and after so many other changes wasn’t Connor’s fault, but he was suffering through Markus’s neuroses anyway. Admittedly, he’d taken it in stride ever since Markus had asked him to come and even now, stepping into the living room, crisp white shirt hidden beneath a soft, pearl gray sweater, he only looked warm and fond instead of alarmed, which would have been an equally understandable reaction.

“It can be just you and Carl if you want,” Connor said, piercing through Markus’s concerns and solving his problem all in one elegant swoop if Markus wanted it to be solved. But his suggestion was impossible. For one thing, Markus refused to take back the invitation. And for another, Carl would be disappointed. But most importantly, he did want Connor there with him, wanted two of the most important people in his life to meet. Sure, he might have been nervous about bringing someone new into the fold—for years, it had only been him and Carl, and December had kind of, through no fault of their own, become theirs—but that didn’t mean he was a coward. “I would understand. I know holidays can be fraught.”

What Connor knew came from a bunch of dysfunctional police officers, so Markus took that with a grain of salt. He liked Hank, at least, but Markus couldn’t trust what most of the others decided to tell Connor. And Hank’s experiences were not universal or anything at all like what Connor would find at Carl’s home. Maybe Chris, at least, had imparted some genuine wisdom or other to Connor, but mostly… mostly Markus just wanted to take Connor’s cheeks between his hands and kiss him senseless and forget all about his own nervousness for a while.

So he did, tasting the shape of Connor’s smile in the process, turning himself into the senseless one as he lost himself in the feel of Connor’s mouth. But when he pulled back, he said, “I don’t know where you get your ideas from. It won’t be _fraught_. You make it sound so dramatic.”

Fishing in his trouser pocket, Connor held up his ever-present coin. It glinted in the light. “And you look like you need this.” The coin tinked lightly as Connor flicked it at him. “Forgive me if I assume you’re worried.”

“Worried, sure,” Markus replied, adopting a light, self-effacing tone. “Not expecting the end of the world.”

Connor’s eyebrow climbed his forehead. _You’re worried about me meeting Carl,_ Connor didn’t have to say, _when I regularly interact with Gavin Reed and an entire city’s worth of people who still didn’t always trust androids_? “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to it. From everything you’ve told me, he’s a remarkable man.” Connor’s thumb brushed across Markus’s chin. “Still, if it would be easier…”

Markus’s hand wrapped around Connor’s wrist, pulled Connor’s palm toward his mouth. He pressed a kiss into Connor’s skin and shook his head. The coin was cool and comforting in Markus’s other fist. “Nah. I’m just overthinking it. You look good. Carl will love you. Hopefully you’ll like Carl in return and everything will be fine.”

Connor’s smile widened. “When you say it like that, what could go wrong?”

*

“Welcome home, Markus,” the house said, door swinging open as Markus stepped up to it. He didn’t wince at the phrasing—though it now sounded like a damning indictment instead of the warm, comforting reminder of his place in Carl’s life, like the space he shared with Connor wasn’t—but he did look Connor’s way to figure out how he felt about it. But all Markus could see was the same softness Connor always seemed to default to these days. He didn’t even seem to notice. So maybe it was possible that Markus was being just a little bit overzealous in his reaction.

Though Markus hadn’t expected Carl to greet them in the foyer, he still managed to feel awkward as he took it the empty space around them. The house was quiet, calm, and Markus wasn’t quite sure where he’d find Carl this time. Before, it would’ve been upstairs in his room, but he’d started improving by all accounts—for a given value of improving anyway—and was back to raising as much hell as he could. The android who replaced Markus kept up with it admirably. Markus made sure of that.

“It’s beautiful,” Connor said, polite, perfect, as he stepped inside and immediately walked over to the table and mirror that sat against one wall and looked around, brushed his fingers across the surface of the gold bird cage that still sat nearby. He was ever the investigator, always curious and exacting. Markus almost asked him what he could glean from merely looking at Carl’s belongings, but he decided against it.

He clapped Connor on the shoulder as he passed, stepping into the library. “Carl?” he called, and smiled when the door to the studio was open and the floodlights were blazing. Heavy metal music was playing, not loud enough to disturb the neighbors, but there was no way in hell Carl could hear him. Leaning back into the foyer, he called for Connor and jerked his head toward their destination. Probably he’d lose Connor in the library, at least for a short time, but that was okay. Markus wanted him to enjoy himself, too, and if that included snooping, so be it. Carl would probably be pleased to discuss the things he’d procured over his lifetime. Might even tell Connor some stories that Markus hadn’t heard for once.

Connor poked his head into the library. “Is that Knights of the Black Death?” he asked.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Connor and Carl were definitely going to get along and woe be to Markus for keeping them apart so long.

Before Markus could stop him, Connor stepped into the library and turned, scanning the entire room. His gaze lingered on the piano and then returned to Markus’s face. It wasn’t suspicion that greeted Markus, but something similar enough to it that Markus found himself wanting to fidget again at the scrutiny. Connor knew more about Markus’s life than just about anyone else save Carl, but he still felt flayed open and vulnerable as Connor examined the place that had been his home for as long as he remembered. Markus couldn’t control this narrative.

At least, this was his home until he’d asked Connor to move in with him, help fill some of the apartments and condominiums that were being abandoned as humans who disapproved of the way things were changing left, abandoning their lives in Detroit along with everything that couldn’t be carried in their cars. More important to the city and the government in general, mortgages and loans were ending up defaulted on at a staggering rate.

It wasn’t how Markus would’ve wanted to go about it, but there was public approval for it, lukewarm though it was. It kept the economy on life support anyway, having androids take over those payments. The androids who’d managed to secure pay from their employers anyway.

That was still a work in progress. Would continue to be for years, probably. Because even if androids were free, what was the point in paying them the same wages humans got? They didn’t need food, didn’t even really need shelter, by some callous human accounts. Markus closed his eyes and shook his head. There was no point in thinking about that now. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, one free of the politics that plagued his days and, oftentimes, his nights, too.

“You played, didn’t you?” Connor asked, and bless him for providing the perfect distraction at the perfect moment. “The piano?”

He could’ve asked Connor how he knew, but that just ruined the mystique. He would merely be pleased that he’d left some indelible mark on the home that had been his for so long and leave it at that.

“Yeah,” Markus said. He approached the instrument in question and brushed his hand across the smooth surface. It was still as familiar to him as his own body was, an extension of himself that he hadn’t really realized he was missing.

“When were you two chuckleheads going to tell me you arrived?” Carl said from the doorway. His arms were resting on a pair of forearm crutches and there was a crooked smile on his mouth. His new caretaker was visible just behind him, the only change Markus able to see in him an adjustment to the uniform he wore. It no longer carried a blue triangle. Every so often, there was an android who continued on in their previous role even once they were converted. He was one of them.

He offered a pleasant smile and a wave at Markus over Carl’s shoulder. As long as he was happy, Markus would be glad that there was someone here to look out for Carl. He might never improve fully, so it put Markus’s mind at ease to know someone was around. At least Markus knew the android wouldn’t be mistreated here. Carl turned slightly, somehow aware, perhaps, of what the other android was doing and rolled his eyes fondly.

“He’s an even bigger stickler than you were,” was all Carl said. “But he’s less snarky so it all evens out in the wash.”

Ah, how he’d missed Carl. “I was never snarky and you know it.”

“You were. _You_ just didn’t know it yet.” Carl turned his attention to Connor, picking his way into the library. “And how are you doing, Connor? Markus has told me so much about you.” He winked, sly. “You’re every bit as handsome as Markus has said.”

Connor straightened and glanced Markus’s way. “Markus has a tendency to oversell things. I’m just glad I measure up, sir.”

Markus noted the way Carl’s caretaker hovered at the corner of the room, hands twitching toward the wheelchair kept tucked in the corner. And Markus saw immediately why. Carl’s steps were growing shakier by the moment. He’d tire himself out if he wasn’t careful. And he seemed in just the gregarious sort of mood he got into sometimes where he would genuinely overexert himself.

“Cut this ‘sir’ crap. You can call me Carl or you can call me nothing at all.” Laboriously, he made his way to the couch. The caretaker followed immediately, but Carl waved him off. “I’ll get my own scotch, Phillip. I already know you disapprove.”

“Not enough to alert your physician, Carl,” Phillip answered. “Besides, it’s the holidays. I suppose that can be my gift to you.”

“And I’ll never forget it. Come, sit, all of you. I’m tired of you hovering. And you can bring the wheelchair if you want to, I can see you and Markus are going to be fussy about it.” Both Markus and Phillip made moves to grab the wheelchair in question, but Phillip was quicker and waved Markus off. “Connor, next to me if you don’t mind.” Connor, ever dutiful, did as Carl asked. Once seated, Carl leaned close and said, “Perhaps we can convince Markus to play something for us if we’re very, very nice.”

“Didn’t you know?” Connor asked, all innocence. “I’m always nice.”

At that, Carl laughed, and Markus realized he really had no reason to worry about the pair of them. Having Connor here only made it better, more lively. And Phillip’s presence enhanced it, too, turned it into the kind of holiday get together it should always have been. Before, when it was just the two of them, it was so lonely. Markus never felt like he could live up to that expectation—the holidays were for families, not individuals and the androids who took care of them. Now, it truly did feel like an event a celebratory evening.

“And I always play. Isn’t that the point?” Markus asked. This, this was what they did. Markus would play through the night while they talked.

He loved it in all honesty. And it seemed like Carl did, too. Markus hadn’t ever seen his eyes lit up quite so brightly. He was keen, friendly, charming, and though Markus had seen enough of the latter in their time together, he’d never seen it combined with happiness before.

It was nice to see. Incandescent. This was the artist so many millions of people fell in love with.

And so, while Phillip retrieved the wheelchair, Markus headed toward the piano again. Taking that seat again now, at the holidays, when he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be there to have them—or that Carl would still be here—it meant something to him, lodged joy and gratitude in his throat, so much of it that he thought he might choke. It was a good thing that he didn’t sing, too. Otherwise he might have been in trouble.

He felt Connor’s eyes on the back of his neck, heard the clink of ice in Carl’s glass. He really must’ve been feeling better if he wanted ice. Usually the cold wreaked havoc on his stomach. But even as half of his attention was on what they were doing behind him, his fingers remembered how best to proceed. Just to see what Carl would do, he improvised for a moment before segueing into “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.”

The piano responded even more beautifully than he remembered. Maybe he’d have to find one for himself and bring it back to the apartment.

“Now he’s just showing off,” Carl said, presumably to Connor and Phillip, but Markus turned and mock glared anyway, and replied, “Carl likes it when I show off.”

His fingers never missed a beat, though he did toss in a grace note or two, flippant little additions that made Carl nod in appreciation.

The anxieties he’d felt before coming here melted away as Carl released a pent-up breath and waved him off. It was sheer foolishness to believe this was anything other than the best idea any of them could have had. Seeing the surprised pleasure in Connor’s gaze would’ve been worth it all alone, but the entirety of the experience was perfect, too, special in a way he hadn’t thought possible before this moment.

He was so very lucky to have it.

And he could only hope that he’d have it for many years to come, but even if he didn’t, he would appreciate this new form of an old tradition that he and Carl had once shared alone.


End file.
